


Kaddish

by 30xf



Series: 201 Days Of X Files [87]
Category: The X-Files
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-04 22:32:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14603121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/30xf/pseuds/30xf





	Kaddish

She doesn't look sick. That's the thought that I can't keep from my brain. It's a ridiculous thought, but it's there just the same. Of course she doesn't look sick. She's a young, healthy woman who eats right, excercises, and takes care of herself. She just happens to have a tumour in her brain that is slowly killing her. Looking at her now, possibly no one but me would see the visible cues that indicate her illness. Her long sleeve v-neck shirt is black--a colour she wears more often in case a nose bleed catches her by surprise. Her jacket, draped across the arm of the couch not a foot away from her, is always near should she get a sudden chill. She has a headache today, roughly in the location of her tumour I think. Not that she told me this, but I've seen her pop an aspirin every couple of hours. And more than she realizes, she keeps squeezing the bridge of her nose in an effort to alleviate the pain.

As many of these clues as there are to her body's struggle to fend off cancer, there is a conflicting amount of evidence to trick the brain into believing she might be okay. Instead of working at the dining room table like I suggested (thinking it would be more comfortable), she chose to sit on the living room floor, her legs stretched out under the table and crossed at the ankles. Her feet are bare, though I know they must be cold, and her toenails are painted a bright red. She's wearing jeans--a rarity--that I happened to have noticed nicely hug curves that might soon be gone should her body give in to her illness. I'm also ashamed to notice that a fair amount of cleavage is visible in the v of her shirt as she bends over her work. All of this suggests she is someone who feels well. Who takes pride in her looks. Who dressed to impress this morning. Not a hint of a person whose body is failing her.

My examination of her continues upward where I am greeted with a bright wave of red hair hanging over her eyes as she looks down, studying crime scene photos of the Isaac Luria case. Her hair is clean and shiny, softer than usual due to the lack of styling products in it this morning. She did take the time to blow dry it straight, but didn't seem to take time for any makeup. As such, her face remains bare, her skin clear and bright, her cheeks rosy and her lips newly shiny thanks to her tongue running over them. To make a long story short, she's beautiful. Not that I would expect someone who's sick to automatically not be beautiful, but it's making it hard to reconcile her condition in my mind. I don't know how to treat her. She gets mad when I treat her like she's sick, but sometimes I can see how exhausted she is. I feel horrible that I keep finding myself attracted to her (not that it's a new feeling), but in this situation I can't help thinking part of that feeling comes from fear of losing her.

It's happened before--this questioning of my feelings for Scully. When she was abducted I began to realize I had feelings for her. I chose to ignore it then, deciding when she was returned to me that simply having her back was enough. But now that I'm faced with the very real possibility of her being gone again, I realize I've been a coward. Keeping my feelings hidden so as to protect our friendship. Cowardly as it may be, I know it'll remain this way, at least for now. Seeing as how Scully won't even let me bring her a tea without making sure it's not because she's sick, I don't think she'd be too keen on accepting any declarations of love.

And so everything will stay the same. I'll do my best to treat her as I always have, as I know that's what she wants. I continue to watch her as she absentmindedly wipes at her nose. A second passes before she does it again and then checks her finger. All is clear this time, and she refocuses on her work. Or tries to, anyways. She holds the paper she's engrossed in closer to her face, squinting to make out the messy handwriting there. After a moment, she chuckles to herself. "Squinting like a jackass, and my glasses are right here," she says, mostly to herself, as she picks up her glasses from the table and puts them on. I smile, but she doesn't look up.

"I'm gonna make some coffee, you want some?" I ask, setting my papers on the table before getting up and stretching.

"Yeah, that'd be great," she answers, still keeping her eyes down. 

I leave the room, and when I look back at her, she's grabbing the blanket off the back of the couch and placing it over her legs. Before heading into the kitchen, I stop at the thermostat and turn it up a few degrees. I've always heard that it's the little things that count. Hopefully I can do enough little things that Scully will never doubt the big thing I'm keeping from her.


End file.
